


Fox's Friends

by satanic_panic



Category: The Lone Gunmen (TV), The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:47:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28496307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satanic_panic/pseuds/satanic_panic
Summary: You like Fox's friends well enough... some of them more than others, though.
Relationships: John Byers/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 1





	Fox's Friends

The Lone Gunmen were Fox's friends, and you liked them enough, you liked John most of all, but Frohike and Langly were decent, too; but as you lounged on Fox's empty desk, he cleared it whenever you came over, lying on your stomach with your legs hanging off of one end and your arms hanging off the other, you kept lazily stealing glances at John. He looked so good in his suit, his hair all neat and brushed, his beard neatly trimmed, his hands between his thighs. Fox was by the fridge, grabbing a drink while Frohike and Langly bickered about something you didn't quite understand. 

"So, John," you spoke up at last. "How've you been?" 

He flinched a little, not expecting conversation, let alone from you, and when he looked over and met your gaze, he could've sworn he felt his features heat up; you were so much cooler than he was and he knew it - you could have any person weak and nervous with just a smile, you could make anyone swoon with a wink, sure, you dressed as if it was still the late seventies' punk scene, but he liked that. The ripped jeans. The chain on your neck. The studded bracelets on your left wrist. The old t-shirts with crudely cut off sleeves. The stained jacket with metal spikes on the shoulders. He often pictured how you looked coming home from concerts, sweating and with a hoarse voice, probably with someone so much more attractive on your arm. He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat on Fox's sofa. "Oh, just, y'know, the usual… you?" 

You rolled onto your back, shifting up slightly so that your torso was partly off of the desk, enough for you to look at him upside down as you rested one hand on your stomach, the other on your neck. "Pretty good, my voice is still a little fucked from the last concert but… it'll heal." 

John's breath hitched as he nodded. "Y'know, uh, if you ever want somebody to pick you up after… I'm always around." 

You grinned, tracing along your jaw as you thought for a second. "That's a lovely offer of you, but they never end until three." 

"Which is why I pick him up," Fox grumbled as he came to steal the desk chair and move it opposite the sofa, playfully glaring at you. 

"Hey, you told me you don't sleep!" You defended. 

John fell quiet again, not wanting to interrupt. 

"That doesn't mean I wanna pick you up and three in the morning and have to clean the stench of cheap beer out of my car," Fox teased. 

"I do not drink cheap beer!" You howled. "I drink cheap rum, get your facts right, Mulder." 

Even still, John laughed at that, although it was soft and probably went unheard. "Well, still… I don't mind if my car smells a bit if it means you get home safe." 

"It's a nice gesture, John," you hummed, flashing him that smile that made him weak. "You should come to the next one I'm going to - it's this new band called Skindred, apparently they're fucking amazing." 

John thought about it for a second, sure, it wasn't his type of music at all - he hated Langly's heavy metal music, but when it came to the stuff that you listened to, he loved it for the fact that you did. So he shrugged and smiled a little anxiously. "I'm not sure if I'd fit in."

"I've got some stuff you can borrow, don't worry," you reassured with a wink that made him nearly swoon. "And you can always crash at my place, too." 

He swallowed thickly, he had only been in your flat a handful of times, but had never stayed a night. "When's your next one?" 

You slapped Fox's shoulder. "Oi! Time?" 

Fox checked his watch. "Ten o'clock." 

"Thank you, honey," you beamed before looking back at John and saying, "two hours." 

\---------- 

John was nervous as he stood beside you in the crowd, he had not borrowed any of your clothes, and felt rather out of place even though nobody batted an eye at him, and as you looked at him, your hand ghosted his before your fingers tangled with his; you leaned in, having to shout over the opening act's music. 

"I got you, Byers." 

He immediately relaxed, nodding and smiling down at you, giving your hand a squeeze to ensure that you knew that those four little words had relaxed him more than anything in the world. "Just… don't let go, please?" 

"I won't," you assured. "I won't let you go, John." 

But now it was time for the main event, and after introductions, the band started to play; the music was fast and heavy, and as you jumped around and danced and banged your head and used your free hand to throw up the 'devil horns', all John could do was smile. He even found himself tapping his foot along to it, and when you leaned in to speak to him again, he nearly dropped. 

"Hey… has anyone told you that you look amazing in blue light?" 

"Uh, no," he replied with an awkward chuckle. 

"Well, you do!" You grinned. "You look fucking banging!" 

John definitely blushed at that comment, doing his best not to grin back like an idiot when you pulled away; he managed to find it in himself to move his feet a little, very much not dancing the way you did, and certainly not banging his head, either, but he was… he was having fun. 

Or at last he was until the concert ended, and he was alone with you at the bar, ordering you a drink of water while your voice was out of order; unable to speak, the only way you could thank him was to kiss his cheek, and he felt as if his entire body had gone stiff and red. You downed the entire bottle of water as if it had been nothing but a shot of it, and you let out a few harsh coughs before you could finally speak. 

"So, what did you think of your first proper concert, John?" You asked, your voice sounded rough and as if it hurt to speak. 

He smiled, nodding slowly. "It was… it was good. Thank you for bringing me along." 

"It's no problem," you looked at his lips for a second before clearing your throat; all night, your hand had been holding his, and even now, your fingers were still laced with his. You held your hand up, smiling. "I told you I wouldn't let go." 

John leaned in a little, his eyes on your lips as he swallowed thickly. "I, uh… I had a great time tonight and I just… thank you." 

You felt the words on your lips as you met him halfway, planting your lips on his softly, still holding his hand even when he froze up for a moment, unsure of how to react until he finally melted against you, his free hand coming to cup your jaw tenderly; he wasn't great, a bit stiff and nervous, but you didn't mind as you laid your hand at the back of his neck and gently moved your thumb up and down, making him giggle a little. Such a sweet sound that it made sugar seem like hard vodka and honey seem like strong coffee. You pulled away, nibbling at his bottom lip before licking your lips to savour the way his had felt. 

"I really like you, John… I, I'm not sure how else to say it so…" you sighed before letting out a breathless laugh. "Can I be your boyfriend?" 

He froze up again, a string of noises coming from the back of his throat before he nodded and gave your hand a little squeeze. "Only if I can be yours…" 

\----------

After that night, you became a regular at the Lone Gunmen's place, usually sat on John's lap whenever the opportunity was there, sometimes just draping yourself over empty tables and chairs, receiving a soft kiss each time John walked by you, other times you were swapping songs with Langly; today was no different as you sat on John's lap, one hand buried in his hair, the other at the back of his neck as you rested your head against the crook of his neck. He was typing away on the computer, still not quite used to having you be so close and to be so affectionate with someone, still a little rough around the edges when it came to dating - but having you sat on his lap and touching him, he had to admit, it helped his focus and his nerves. A lot. 

You shifted suddenly, moving to rest your chin on his shoulder as you let out a soft grumble. His beard scratched at your neck and made you buck your hips just little enough that he didn't feel it. 

"Keep him on a short lead, Byers," Fox joked as he walked in.

"Oh, ha-fucking-ha," you growled, reluctantly getting off of John's lap to square up to the FBI agent. "You wanna go, mate? You wanna scrap?" 

Fox raised a brow at you, smirking. "I like my chances." 

"Please don't," John interrupted, getting between you both. "At, at least take it outside." 

You frowned. "Next time, Mulder… what do you want, anyways? Frohike and Langly aren't here." 

"Actually, I was here to see you," Fox stated. "My mum's asked if you'd like to spend New Year's with us this year." 

You looked at John before looking back at Fox. "Both of us?" 

Fox nodded. "She said the more the merrier." 

"John?" You looked at him with a questioning but soft gaze. 

He thought for a moment or two before shrugging and letting out a murmur of agreement. "If you're up for it, then sure." 

"Alright, Fox, we'll come," you beamed. "But I'm kicking your ass at rounders this year." 

"I'd like to see you try," he called as he walked out, and once he was gone, you immediately pulled John close again. 

"John?" 

"Yeah?" John didn't hesitate to keep your body close to his, he loved having you so close. 

"I love you." 

**Author's Note:**

> first John Byers fic so please don't hate it if it's super OOC dbfkfndnfm


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